


Cossacks' Pet

by The_Asset



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Bottom Bucky, Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Gang Rape, Hurt Bucky, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-consensual sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overall Terrified Bucky, Self-Hatred, Threesome, Torture, scared Bucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:33:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3510212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Asset/pseuds/The_Asset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>70 years after the fall, Bucky wakes to Brock Rumlow holding a hand over his mouth and his arm missing. He is ordered to listen to Rumlows orders, and follows him to Secretary Gregorovich. He is placed under the man for training, and is forced into many things he didn't want to do, mainly sex without his best friend, his captain, his love of his life, Steve Rogers. </p><p>70 years after the plane crash, Steve Rogers is working for Shield. He is going on missions, defending the world, and mourning the loss of his young lover. Unknown to him, he is working for the organization he fought to bring down, losing his lover to, Hydra. Steve vows one day, he will find out why Hydra was created in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cossacks' Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, Its me again. I have been throwing this idea around in my head for about a week now and I finally wrote it down. I am a huge Yassen Gregorovich fan, and to be honest I really don't like his actor. My image for him is much different. Anyways off topic, I am NOT A SUPPORTER of what goes on in this story, it is purely fiction and for reading. If you find this uncomfortable, the back button is on the top left corner of the screen. Good night and enjoy the story, I hope you like. I'm also sorry about Bucky, its just I love seeing him as a bottom and believe he is an adorable bottom and stuff, but its just a bit of a HYDRA TRASH PARTY thing when he's forced things.

The very first thing that alerted him to the hand over his mouth, was the body pressed up against his back. He felt his eyes start to widen and glowed, throwing his head back and felt the hand fall from his mouth, and felt fear spark up his spine when the hand latched onto his hair, and felt the cold and thin metal of a knife lay against his throat. He hissed angrily, looking up. The hand in his hair was leather clad and dark. He remembered his training and lunged backwards, falling down against the body underneath him, rolling off and grabbed the knife, pointing it towards the male. "You are not the one who is allowed to touch me, who are you and what have you done with him?" He hissed out, eyes narrowing behind his long and tangled bangs. "Ah, I see you speak the language I do. Good, this shall be interesting." He narrowed his eyes more, gripping the knife tighter. "Who are you?" The male raised an eyebrow, and a dark look flashed through his eyes. He was dark haired, with blue eyes and a heavily muscled body. "I'm Brock Rumlow, your new handler. You will address me as sir, and follow every single one of my orders or you will be punished, understood?" He nodded, blinking in fear. "Drop the knife and stand up. I want to examine you." The boy laid the knife down on the floor, now noticing the water soaking into his dirty and torn clothing. He stood up, feeling dizzy as he leaned himself against the wall to steady himself. He let his hand drop to his side and looked up at Rumlow. "Come here, stand in front of me, and don't move." He moved towards him, stopping two inches from the man, and blinked, watching his gaze travel over his body, examining the muscled and toned body. "Good, you are suitable to Secretary Gregorovich." Rumlow lead him out of the room, and into a set of hallways that all looked the same, making sure he didn't know where he was going.

Yassen tapped his fingers against his desk, talking with Secretary Pierce. "You expect me to break in a new recruit by Friday? I have more important things to deal with, like SCORPIA threatening to stop sending your company money. I have something to deal with and-," He looked up at the older man, "Oh yes, your hunt for Alexander Rider. I understand you love him so dearly, Mr. Gregorovich. I came to tell you about the new recruit, because it seems,we have found a suitable replacement, the boy we found in the mountains of Russia, is the new recruit." His eyes widened with shock before narrowing angrily. "You found a boy in the mountains, what makes you think he is suitable to be a recruit for your establishment?" Pierce nodded, and snapped his fingers. Agent Rumlow came into the room, with a boy behind him. He was thin and small, with long brownish black hair down to his shoulders, which were thin and littered with scratches and claw marks, his left arm completely missing up to the shoulder. Yassens' eyes widened, and looked him over. He had grey eyes, the color of a stormy sea, with thick and long eyelashes. His face was heart shaped, with beautifully sinful cupids bow lips, and a long and pale unmarked neck, the skin a innocent tease to the dark and frequently hate filled eyes of the Assassin. "What is his name?" His gaze flickered up to Pierces. "James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant in the 107th division of the United States Military." His gaze darkened drastically, licking his lips. "I'll take him. Rumlow gather his things, and lead him to my room. Thank you, Pierce. I'm glad you're allowing me to train the boy."

He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it, looking up at Rumlow. "Please sir, don't let him do this... I-I have someone back home. Please let me go home." His voice was rough with fear, eyes begging the man. He looked over and met the gaze of Secretary Gregorovich, and began to tremble. The man was young, younger than Rumlow and the older man. This was the man who was going to train him, he didn't seem very skilled in training others. He dropped his gaze and looked away, following Rumlow out of the room. He felt something tug on the memory of the blonde male he loved. The blonde was his Captain, and he needed to make it back to him. Little to James, he didn't know it was in the 21st century. He still believed it was the forties, during World War Two. James followed behind him, head down. His clothes were heavy, soaking the boy till he was shivering in cold. "Your cold, we must warm you up." Rumlow pulled him into a bathroom, and onto the toilet. He turns and starts the new contraption, and James watches the water fall from the faucet on the ceiling. He feels Rumlow slip his shirt off and hisses in pain, now realizing that he no longer had a left arm. His eyes widened, and looked up at the man. "M-My arm... what happened to it?" Rumlows' hands slipped down his sides to pull his pants off, only for him to push him off. "Don't touch me, I'll do it myself." He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and pulled them down, stepping out of them, and stepped under the water, hissing in pain as blood began to wash off his body and down the drain, the shoulder was torn and ragged. He looked up to Rumlow, his eyes sad and pain filled. "S-Sir, what happened to my arm?" His eyes went to the shoulder and then back to his. "You lost your arm 70 years ago. You fell from a train." James blinked, eyes widening. "WHERE AM I?" He screamed, glaring daggers at the man, backed in the corner. "You're in America, James." He shook his head, and fell to his knees. "No! I'm supposed to be with Steve! Where is Steve?" Brock slammed the boy backwards into the wall. "Stop screaming you little shit!" He slapped him across the face, sending him to his knees. He looked down, seeing the boy with hurt eyes, shaking. He smirked, enjoying the sight of him on his knees. "Ya know, Mr. Greg never specified when you were supposed to be in his room. He smirked, licked his lips and took hold of the belt keeping his unfirom pants up, and undid it, pulling them out of the loops, and folded it over. He undid the butttons, allowing his uniform to fall to the ground, revealing toned and muscled legs and black boxers briefs, containing a large and thick cock, the cotton fabric barely able to contain the cock that belonged to him. "Get on your knees and suck my cock, ya little shit." He watched the boy get up on his knees and pull his cock out of his boxers, and began to suck on the head. Brock tangled fingers in his tangled and shaggy hair, head falling to the side as he moaned greedily, thrusting into the tight jead of the boys throat. He gripped his hair tighter, using his throat as hard as he wanted, feeling the boy gurgle around his cock, knowing the poor thing was going to vomit. He smirked darkly, and pinned him there, his cock down his throat, for a minute, feeling the kid thrash, hitting against his thighes before letting him back and gasp for air. He watched the kid vomit all over himself, seeing blood appear towards the end. Brock hadn't realized that Yassen had snuck up on the two when he heard a throat clear itself, and turned, looking over his shoulder, and into the Assassins eyes, his grip still tight on James hair. "I... uh, sorry sir. I couldn't help it, he just looked so pretty and I couldnt-" Brock gasped in pain, falling forward as the air left his lungs, Yassens fist retreating from the view and he blacked out, hitting the floor with a heavy thud, gasping for air. Blinking away black, he looked up, seeing Yassen leave with the boy his arms, and Pierce stanging in the doorway, tsking his tongue in shame. "Look at you, Rumlow. You disobeyed orders, and now Mr. Gregorovich will have to reassure the boy that he won't be alone with you anymore. You truely messed up this time, and I believe its time for your punishment." He spat a chunk of blood up, eyes narrowed. "Tell the man to go to hell, that kid has a night throat and I can't wait to fuck him more." Pierce smirked darkly, and walked towards him. "You sure about that, Brock? Because I and you will need to figure out a way to get the boy. Are you willing to cooperate with me?" He nodded, wiping blood off his chin and looked at James' clothes. "Hes Captain America's best friend, isn't he?"

Steve arrived back to Shield, his head in his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had a headache and it was killing him. He looked up, seeing Natasha watching him closely. "You okay there, Rogers?" He nodded, placing his shield on the seat next to him, sighing. ( _"You okay there, Captain Rogers?" Bucky looked up, asking his friend. He was still dressed in his uniform, a tear here in there from the fight, but a smile still on his young and youthful face. Steve smiled, nodding. "Yeah, Buck. I'm alright, how are you doing? Did you have fun on your first mission with Captain America?")_ He walked to his locker, and changed into civilian clothes, saying good bye to everyone else, and headed home. He rode his bike home, parked it in its spot, and walked up to the apartment, and slammed the door, locked it, and headed towards the back room, adding to his wall of things. He sighed, looking at the red lines connecting leads, the blue lines connecting to dead ends, and white lines leading to important clues. He rubbed a hand over his face, and grabbed a glass of water, and drank it down, changing into sweatpants, and fell asleep on the bed in his room, dreading the day coming tomorrow. He still hadn't found a lead on why Hydra was created, why they had done what they had done, why they stole Bucky away from him. He remebed the younger like the back of his head, remembed the first night they spent together, flashes of Bucky screaming his name, pleasure evident on the boys face as he begged Steve for more. He smiled softly to himself, holding the dog tags around his neck. He remembered Bucky giving him his dog tags, saying that if he was ever lost in the war to remember him by his dog tags. He brought the metal tags to his lips, whispered something quietly to himself, and closed his eyes, falling asleep in the bed. His cellphone was sitting next to the clock kn the bed side table, which was exactly two feet from the side of the bed, with Steves lap top, his cellphone, his clock, and a torn up book in the drawer. He was sleeping soundly for the first time since he first woke up in the 21st century, his head on his pillow, and his arm curled around the other to make a replacement for Bucky. He curled around himself around the pillow tightly, and slept. His hair spread out across the snow white and black fabric, making a deep and bright contrast with the fabric color. His eyes closed, and lips barely parted. 


End file.
